


broken into better shape

by Sohvana



Series: broken into better shape [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternative Perspective, Background Relationships, Companion Piece, F/M, Feels, M/M, Minor Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Missing Scene, Pining, Plot, Plot Bridging, Slow Burn, cast some light 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohvana/pseuds/Sohvana
Summary: Bodhi survives to get the Rogue One crew off Scarif. Even so, each of them needs to heal, and the Rebellion doesn't pause to let them. Bodhi meets someone who might help. - Integrates with the plot of Episode IV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brynnmclean (ilfirin_estel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilfirin_estel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [cast some light & you'll be all right](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856910) by [brynnmclean (ilfirin_estel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilfirin_estel/pseuds/brynnmclean). 



> This story takes place in the cast some light 'verse, and is perhaps best enjoyed along with that series. It also can stand alone.

Something heavy clatters against the walls of the hold. Bodhi turns to look, sees the flashing lights on the detonator. He freezes, stares, his half open mouth instantly dry.

The last marine still aboard - he’d never caught her name - reaches out, grabs the detonator bare handed. Her face is stony as she flings it back outside.

“Wait!” Too late, Bodhi reaches out in protest. He watches the detonator soar toward their comrades still shrinking for cover behind the cargo containers on the beach.

It never reaches the ground. The explosion is deafening - still so near - and Bodhi’s ears ring against the din. A ball of flames erupts, enveloping the hold’s exit for a lingering moment. Then the sunlight and fresh air filters back in, bringing the smells of burnt flesh and hair.

“They’ve made us,” the marine says urgently. Bodhi more reads her lips than hears the words. “We should move.”

Then Bodhi can hear enough again to register the blasters firing a little ways off, but growing nearer. He nods woodenly, already halfway to the pilot’s chair. “Where will we-?”

“Just go!” she shouts, waving an arm toward the sky in general.

Bodhi takes off, circling about more tightly than he thought the bulky ship could really handle. He can see and hear enemy fighters, but for now they seem more concerned with strafing the beach than chasing him down.

At first he thinks to land on another of the small islands, perhaps give some of their own troops support from above, or find somewhere safer to wait. But then he hears Admiral Raddus’s voice break through again on the coms, announcing receipt of the transmissions.

“They did it!” he exclaims, almost wildly. “The plans went through!”

He turns to meet the marine’s eyes, ready to celebrate. Her mouth quirks into a smile, but then she wipes sweat from her brow with the back of one hand, and Bodhi follows her eyes to the motionless bodies on the floor of the hold. She must have really known those men. Fought with them before, for years maybe, in the Rebellion. She isn’t a newcomer like him. He falls silent, turning the ship toward the communications tower.

Jyn must have seen them coming. She’s backed away from the pad but ready to board when he lands, one arm looped around Cassian to keep him upright. They’re both bloodied and bruised, but unmistakably alive.

Bodhi rushes out toward them, then stops a few yards away, wringing his hands. “You did it,” he says, and his voice breaks.

Jyn opens her mouth to answer, but doesn’t get the chance. They jump, startled by a sudden brilliant display above them. They look up in time to see the green beam receding back toward the Death Star, and the sky filled with uncountable flashes falling toward the planet’s surface.

Cassian speaks first. “One of the cruisers, breaking up into the atmosphere.”

“So many pieces...” Jyn trails off, and her jaw sets.

Without another word, they start moving for the ship.

“You have the hard copy?” Bodhi asks. “Just in case?”

Jyn pats a palm against her jacket and he nods, dashing for his seat.


	2. Chapter 2

They land back on Yavin, among the other fleeing ships of the Rebel fleet. Bodhi pulls his hands back from the controls and rubs his eyes. He’s not sure how many hours it’s been since he last slept.

A bustle of people meet them on the flight deck. Within moments, Cassian is pulled out of his seat and transferred to a stretcher.  Seeing his closed eyes and limp limbs, Bodhi starts. He looks to Jyn anxiously.

“When did he lose consciousness?” 

She blinks, her eyes red and drawn, cloudy from restless sleep. She shakes her head in short, clipped motions. “I...I don’t know.” She jumps to follow the medics as they carry Cassian away.

“I’ve seen lesser men pull through worse,” Baze calls after her. His face is streaked with grime and his hands are dirty, but he continues threading his fingers through Chirrut’s hair.

Chirrut keeps still, hands clenched around his staff, his head resting on Baze’s leg. He says nothing.

They show no sign of moving, so Bodhi turns and rushes after Jyn.

He catches up just as a pair of doors swing back to close in her face.

“Surgery,” is all she says to answer his questioning look. He sees the tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over, despite how tightly she presses her lips together.

Standing this close to her, in the harsh light of the med bay, suddenly a dozen more bruises and cuts rise to show up clearly against her skin. He sees dried blood matted in her hair. He scrambles for something he can say.

Another swarm of medics appear, herding Jyn away from him, and he almost loses his chance.

“I’ll see you, after,” he calls, rising onto his tiptoes to be seen over the medics’ shoulders. Jyn might have nodded acknowledgement, but he’s really not sure.

Then someone grasps his elbow, and Bodhi flinches, pulls away. “What?” he says, ashamed of the shrill note invading his voice. A lump rises in his throat, and he’s not sure he can speak again at all.

“Right this way, let’s get you checked out.” The medic eyes him carefully.

Bodhi shakes his head, swallowing hard. “I’m fine,” he manages.

“Standard procedure.”

Bodhi closes his eyes, rakes in a breath that doesn’t quite seem to reach his lungs. “I didn’t do anything,” he says, the words tumbling out just a hint too fast. “I don’t need any help. I didn’t do anything.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bodhi starts at seeing the dark lines knitting Jyn’s skin together at the temples, on a forearm, across one lip.

"How many stitches did they give you?”

That wasn’t one of questions he’d intended to ask.

She tugs her sleeves down further over her wrists, crosses her arms over her chest, keeps watching Cassian’s face. He’s still unconscious, attached to the tangle of medical equipment in the center of the room.

“They said, but I lost count.”

Bodhi nods, sits.

She pulls her gaze away from Cassian, settles it on him for a generous moment. “And you?”

“Oh no, I...I didn’t need any.” He can’t meet her eyes anymore. He looks at his hands in his lap, his cheeks burning hot. “I stayed with the ship. I’m the pilot.” He tries to smile over the last, familiar words. Instead his voice shakes and his shoulders slump. He stares up at Cassian, relieved when he feels, rather than sees, Jyn turn away again.

After a few moments of silence, he tries again. “How’s he doing?”

Jyn shrugs, shrinking even farther into herself. “No change. They said a stroke like this is common after a head injury. He could wake up today, or next week, or…”

“Oh, anytime then,” Bodhi says, rushing to fill the silence, refusing to hear or think the word _never_. “And the plans for the Death Star? Have they found its weak point yet?”

Jyn swallows, what little color she had draining from her face. “They’re no good.”

“No good?” Bodhi pushes forward to the edge of his chair.

“Data tapes don’t work.”

Stunned, Bodhi says nothing.

Jyn continues, her voice wooden. “They think the Imperials took charge of the drive while we transmitted the files. Did something to ruin the tapes.”

“So we have nothing? After all this,” he waves an arm toward Cassian, hears the thumps of freshly dead men falling to the floor of his ship’s hold ringing in his ears. “We have nothing!” The desperate anger rising in his voice finally makes him pause. Jyn is the last person of all who deserves to hear it.

“Admiral Raddus received the plans. You heard him say so.”

Her voices stays steady, but he hears the question and nods again, abashed.

“Then we have hope.”


	4. Chapter 4

After the funeral service for the rebel soldiers lost at Scarif, Bodhi stands alone in the silence. Jyn refused to leave Cassian’s bedside to attend, perhaps afraid she’ll be doing the ceremony all over again soon, if he doesn’t pull through. Chirrut and Baze are filing away, near the back of the small crowd.

Everyone’s going right back to work, back to the rebellion. Bodhi has no place to fall back on, no routine to lean into for relief.

“Thanks for coming.”

Bodhi is surprised by the familiar voice at his shoulder.

The marine who saved his life in the battle holds out a hand for him to shake.

“Of course,” he says, taking it. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s Naren. Naren Codi.”

“Bodhi Rook."

She smiles faintly. “Yeah, I know.”

“Right. Sorry, again.” He’s not sure what else to say.

“It’s all right.” She falls quiet, standing companionably close by, somehow not too near.

The new row of burial mounds rises loney and solemn out of the wet ground. The soft breeze hardly cuts the warm, humid air. Somewhere nearby, a bird calls.

“There’ll be markers soon,” Naren says, after a moment. “With the names. For them, and for the ones we had to leave behind.”

Bodhi twists his hands together. “I just hope we helped, you know? I hope it matters.”

Naren looks at him with gentle astonishment. “Of course it matters.”

A shout echoes behind them, then a jumble of murmuring voices. Bodhi jogs over, Naren following at his heels. The crowd mills together with an uneasy energy, far removed from the grave procession it was only a few moments before.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“News,” Baze tells him, pointing.

A man with a dark, wispy beard calls out over the noise. “The _Devastator_ sighted over Tatooine!”

Bodhi waits, frozen. The man takes an age to draw breath for the next pronouncement.

“The _Profundity_ captured! Admiral Raddus taken prisoner!”

The crowd takes in a collective gasp, though this intelligence is little surprise, since the cruiser has been out of contact since the battle.

“Stormtroopers scour Tatooine! Mos Eisley spaceport under lockdown!”

The buzz of the crowd grows louder, and Baze elbows Bodhi good-naturedly.

“Someone escaped Scarif with those plans,” he says.

“Tatooine has plenty of ours.” Naren chimes in. “Those stormtroopers won’t have an easy time of it. All we need is a little luck.”

Chirrut shares a knowing look with Baze.

“What do we do now?” Bodhi asks eagerly.

Naren shakes her head. “We wait.”

“We trust the Force,” Chirrut adds, reaching out to squeeze Bodhi’s shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

Bodhi’s tickering with circuitry in a temporarily empty hangar when Jyn rounds a corner to join him. This is the first time he’s seen her outside the med bay since Scarif, and her clothes are still rumpled.

He sets down the powerdriver, opens his mouth to ask after Cassian, but the words won’t quite come together. The news is either very good or very bad, and Jyn’s not smiling.

“Doctors wheeled him away for more tests,” she explains.

No real word yet, then. Bodhi feels the knot gathering between his shoulders pause. He pulls his goggles down to rest hanging around his neck.

“I...I didn’t know where to be,” she admits.

“Feel free.” He motions to the stools tucked under a nearby workbench.

Jyn drags one across the floor to sit closer nearby. Her eyes linger on K2’s battered frame, laid out in front of Bodhi.

“Force, he’s in rough shape.”

Bodhi nods. “The frame took quite a beating, of course. He needs a new motivator, and there’s something screwy with the obedience-rationale module.” He pauses, grins. “Then again, I have a suspicion not all of that is new.”

Jyn smiles back then, hiding her lips behind a hand. It’s been days since she’s looked that way, and the expression grinds, like a joint gone too long without grease.

He looks down at the embedded circuit board again, reaching to undo the loosened screws with his fingers this time. “Cassian will have him running again in no time.”

“I hope so,” Jyn says quietly, the smile fading.

Bodhi feels her eyes boring into him, and the clatter of metal parts rings loud in his ears.

“Thank you, for going back for K2."

Bodhi bobs his head, still up to his elbows in droid. “We had time.”

“You didn’t know that for sure."

Bodhi’s hands still. “No, I didn’t.”

They both stare at the floor a moment.

“It’s just like you said yourself. One chance, then the next. We took the chance, is all.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She rakes a hand through her hair, makes a face at the resistance she finds, and gives up.

He looks at her again. He’s wanted to say something since Eadu, but never quite had the chance.

“Galen - your father, I mean...he was incredible. I’m really sorry about his passing.”

Jyn pulls one knee up close to her chest. “Yeah, everything would be a lot easier now if he’d made it.”

“No. Well, yes, but...you must miss him. I’m sorry.” He wishes for better words.

“I hadn’t seen him since I was little,” Jyn says, staring into the void. Her fingers twist around the kyber crystal pendant she always wears.

“I saw my father for the last time when I was five,” Bodhi tells her. “I miss him anyway.”

“What happened?”

Bodhi reaches further into K2’s frame. It’s easier to talk if he keeps his hands busy.

“I don’t know. The war, I guess. My mother didn’t like to talk about him.”

Jyn just nods.

“The way your father talked about you, I know he loved you. And your mother. He would’ve done anything for you both, and he did. I don’t care what anybody says, he’s a hero of the Rebellion.”

“So are you, you know.”

He shakes his head. “I was in the right place at the right time, flew a ship one way instead of another. If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been someone else. Nobody else could’ve done what Galen did.”

“But _you_ did it,” Jyn presses.

Bodhi looks away. 


	6. Chapter 6

“What’s wrong?” Baze asks Chirrut suddenly, letting his soup spoon fall back into his bowl unheeded.

Bodhi freezes, a mouthful halfway to target, looks hurriedly between the two.

Chirrut’s brow furrows deeper. “The Force is troubled,” he says slowly. “Many new voices joining the chorus, all at once…”

He trails off, folds his hands into his sleeves, sits back further from the table.

Bodhi had heard about Chirrut’s words on Eadu, about Cassian and the dark movements of the Force. From the pilot’s chair on Scarif, he’d seen him fight blind, cutting a bloody swath through Imperial troops to reach the ship, and safety. If he trusts anyone to know the ways of the Force, he trusts Chirrut. His appetite leaves him.

Shortly thereafter, news of Alderaan reaches the mess. Two billion lives, snuffed out in a matter of moments. An entire planet, wiped from the charts. The Empire's Ultimate Weapon, fully unleashed.

Bodhi flounders in the heavy silence, swimming against the current of his own despair. Then he remembers, and shoves himself to his feet.

“Jyn.” He wills his body to hold upright despite the trembling.

The Guardians turn toward him, both faces etched with hurt.

“Somebody has to tell her,” Bodhi says miserably. “Might as well be me.”

He takes the passageways to the med bay at a run, presses palm to pad, stumbles through as soon as the doors slide open.

Jyn looks up at him from her station at Cassian’s bedside, startled but unworried. She hasn’t heard.

Bodhi’s breathless, more from heartsickness than the pace he’d set.

“It’s Alderaan,” he begins. “The Death Star…” but his throat closes over the words.

Jyn springs from her seat instantly. “Like Jedha?” Her voice trembles but she holds her chin high.

“No, Jyn. The whole planet, it’s...gone.”

She cries out first, a strangled, horrible sound. Then she’s falling, eyes rolled back into her skull. Bodhi scrambles to catch her, sinks to the floor holding her in his arms, balances her weight across his lap. He opens his mouth to call for the medics, but a sob crawls out first, his chest heaves, and the tears start falling at last.

Her eyes flutter before he finds his voice again.

“Too late, Papa,” she whispers.

“It’s me, Jyn," he chokes out. "It’s Bodhi."

“Too late...” Her body relaxes into stillness again.

“No!” He’s crying too hard now to mind how the tears are scuttling off his face and leaving dark, damp spots on her shirt. “Jyn, no...”

He lets her lay out flat on the tiles. He’s kneeling by her side, curled over her limp shape, his forehead nearly brushing the floor.

“You can’t give up. _Please_.” He’s not certain which of them he’s pleading with.

Once she stirs, he wonders how long he’s been watching over her, crying. She moves to sit up right away, but he shakes his head.

“You’re wrong, Jyn,” he says fiercely. He brushes the tangled hair off her forehead.

She looks up at him, still dazed, her eyes slowly refocusing.

“It’s not too late, _it’s still not too late_ \- to do something about it.”

He reaches out to clasp her hand, relieved when she squeezes back.


	7. Chapter 7

 The rap on the door to Bodhi’s room almost doesn’t wake him. Fitful dreams resist letting him free, but eventually he stumbles across to answer.

“General wants to see you.”

He pulls on a set of unfamiliar clothes, ones gifted to him by the rebels. After Alderaan, Jyn had insisted he abandon his Imperial garb, and he hadn’t argued with her. Everyone remembers where he came from without it, anyway.

He follows the messenger mechanically, sinks into a chair in an empty briefing room. Mercifully, someone drops a mug of caf in front of him, and he curls his hands around it, treasuring the warmth. 

He stares out a window while he waits, the unusual hour hardly registering. 

General Dodonna’s questions are nothing new. Bodhi’s confirmed so much of this information to other rebel personnel already -  Imperial security procedures, record keeping policies, protocols for responding to attacks, signaling codes, standard flight patterns, convoy maneuvers. The words come out almost rote now, and Bodhi downs the caf between answers.

Then General Dodonna pauses, looks at him long and hard.

“And Galen Erso - you trust him?”

Bodhi starts. “Of course. Absolutely.”

“You don’t think there’s any chance he lied to you? You truly believe he planted a weakness in the Death Star?”

He blinks, reaching for words to do his indignation justice. Squaring his shoulders, he looks up at the general. “I risked my life to bring that message. Galen risked his life, and lost it. Do you think either of us would have done that, for nothing?”

“I think you may have done it as part of an Imperial plot, to draw out and finish the Rebel Alliance for good.”

Bodhi’s hands close into fists on the table. “I worked for the Empire for years, flew their cargo, kept their secrets, shut my mouth and closed my eyes on their crimes against the galaxy. I am many terrible things, I know that, but I am no liar. I believe Galen, and you should, too.”

“The plans found on Scarif can be trusted, then? You’d bet your life on it?” 

Bodhi grits his teeth around one word. “Yes.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” the general says, rising from his chair. “I’m gambling with every life on this moon, and I don’t take that responsibility lightly.”

Suddenly dots connect, and Bodhi leaps to his feet. “Wait, you - you have the plans?”

“You may go.”

“General, please,” Bodhi begs, as Dodonna turns away. “Tell me, do we have the plans?”

The general doesn’t even look back.

“What do we do now?” 

“ _‘We’_?” Dodonna roars, turning to glower at Bodhi from under imposing eyebrows. But then he draws in a measured breath, and his voice softens. “Get some sleep, Rook. While you can.”


	8. Chapter 8

"An analysis of the plans provided by Princess Leia has demonstrated a weakness in the battle station."

Bodhi nods along, listening carefully while General Dodonna describes the mission to destroy the Death Star. Jyn’s seated next to him with her feet spread wide, elbows resting on her knees, head bowed low. Baze and Chirrut are on the bench behind them.

“Only a precise hit will set up a chain reaction.”

He watches the schematics on screen. The operation will require precise flying, steady hands at the torpedoes, and a whole lot of luck.

"The target area is only two meters wide."

The pilots, already in their flight gear, start grumbling and shifting in their seats, unnerved.

One calls out, "That's impossible, even for a computer!"

Bodhi opens his mouth to argue with the despair, a moment from jumping to his feet, but Jyn presses a hand against his knee.

From the back row, another voice counters, "It's not impossible! I used to bull's-eye womp rats in my T-16 back home. They're not much bigger than two meters."

Bodhi stares at the sandy haired young man who spoke up. He’s seated with the pilots, but dressed in plain clothes. From the front of the room, Princess Leia meets his eyes, and both of them smile.

Then General Dodonna nods to Jyn, and she stands.

“Many lives were sacrificed to bring us here, to this turning point in history, to this one chance. I know you’ve felt those losses deeply, as I have. But now let’s show the galaxy how far the rebellion has come, how much we can accomplish when we stand together. Remember the cause we’re fighting for.”

The general drops a hand on her shoulder, looks around the crowded room. "Man your ships, and may the Force be with you."

The pilots start filing out toward the hangars, heads held high. General Dodanna and Princess Leia fall into conversation in low voices.

Jyn wavers on her feet, drifting alone in space, despite the many bodies milling past.

Bodhi crosses over to her, reaches out, hesitates.

Jyn closes the distance, linking their arms together, letting him support her.

“They said there’s space for us in the control room,” he says.

“I don’t want Cassian to be alone when -,” Jyn stops, swallows, starts again. “I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

She doesn’t say it aloud, but Bodhi hears the alternative. _I don’t want him to die alone._

“Right,” he nods. “Wait here.”

She eases herself back down onto the bench, as if every move aches. Bodhi figures they probably still do.

He steps away, taps the first tech he finds on the shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare receiver, would you?”

He comes back to the group with an old hunk of metal and wires in his hands. “This’ll do. Come on.”

Together, they head back to the med bay.


	9. Chapter 9

Baze and Chirrut settle their weight in adjacent chairs, saying nothing, shifting their knees till they’re lightly touching. Jyn watches Cassian’s face for signs of understanding, with a hand looped through his, her elbow braced against the mattress.

Once he has the receiver running, Bodhi can’t sit still. He alternates between leaning against the walls and pacing circles in the cramped space.

They hear the Red and Gold squadrons establish the plan for their approach, and Bodhi wishes he were flying with them. He’d offered to take a support ship out there, something big enough to rescue any pilots who had to eject from their fighters, but the rebels’ entire plan rests on the small X-wings and Y-wings getting close enough that the battle station’s onboard guns have no effect. He hasn't flown something that light and maneuverable in years, and a bigger, slower ship in the formation would have been a liability more than anything. 

The first trench run ends with all three ships gunned down by enemy fighters, the pilots’ voices on the coms snuffed out one by one.

Red Leader starts another run, loses his two support ships, but gets close enough to fire torpedoes. There’s a momentary thrill, before the news comes that they didn’t enter the exhaust port. He calls for another attack, before his yell crumbles into static, then silence.

Bodhi starts counting on his fingers, weighing the number of fighters they’ve lost by now against how many they sent. When the counts draw too close together, he abandons the idea. He’s not sure he wants to know.

The next run with three rebel ships begins.

“We’re going in, we’re going in full throttle. That ought to keep those fighters off our back.”

Bodhi recognizes the voice from the briefing room, that same easy confidence.

Another pilot chimes in, “Luke, at that speed, will you be able to pull out in time?”

 _Luke_. His name is Luke.

“It’ll be just like Beggar’s Canyon back home,” comes the reply.

Bodhi smiles despite himself. Anyone would follow a voice like that.

Enemy fighters arrive to tail them. One support pilot breaks away, retreating after a hit, and the other is destroyed.

There’s a long silence on the coms, and Bodhi's pacing again, wringing his hands.

Then someone speaks up from base. "Luke, you switched off your targeting computer. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm all right."

Chirrut's bowed head lifts, and Baze looks closely at him.

More silence.

"I've lost R2!" Luke says, alarmed.

The base announces, "The Death Star has cleared the planet. The Death Star has cleared the planet."

As if they need to hear twice over that they’re now in range for a full assault from the battle station. Bodhi hopes that frequency isn’t broadcasting up to Luke. He peers out the window, catches a glimpse of the Death Star, faint but growing larger over the treetops.

A new voice jumps on the coms, whooping and cheering. "You're all clear, kid! Now let's blow this thing and go home."

Jyn starts, cranes her neck to meet Bodhi's look, one hand still holding Cassian’s, the other clutching into the bedclothes.

Bodhi's lightheaded. He leans against a wall, sinks down to the floor.

The same voice again,  "Great shot, kid! That was one in a million!"

“Do you think...?” Jyn asks.

“I don’t know,” Bodhi gasps. He can scarcely breathe. “I don’t know.”

“He did it,” says Chirrut, with finality, a slow smile creasing his face.

“Look!” Baze points out the window.

The explosion in the sky is full of sparkling oranges and yellows. The two cross to the window to watch the lights dissipate and fall.

“Tell me,” Chirrut asks Baze in a low voice, and he does.

Bodhi’s lungs expand again, and he looks up to see Jyn offering him a hand.

He takes it, pulls himself to his feet, and they join the Guardians at the window together. Baze claps him on the back, hard enough he nearly collapses against the sill.

A chorus of jubilant voices swells on the coms as the lights above start to dim.

“Don’t tell me I’ve missed all the fun.”

“Cassian, you’re awake!” Jyn lunges for him. “And we’re safe now, we did it, I…” she trails off as the tears come.

Cassian reaches out cautiously, brushing his fingertips against her jawline.

Bodhi draws in another full breath, but it shakes toward the end and his own eyes are prickling.

“Come here,” Baze says, wrapping him up in strong arms, letting him bury his face against his shoulder. “We did good, son.”


	10. Chapter 10

“You should go to the feast,” Cassian tells them, again.

Bodhi looks to Jyn. Baze folds his arms and nestles closer to Chirrut.

“I can’t eat anything, and I’m barely holding my eyes open here,” Cassian insists. “If I’m going to sleep through my own feast, at the very least you lot should be there.”

The celebration in their collective honor was the Alliance’s compromise. Despite best efforts by the higher-ups, word of their role in the victory against the Death Star had spread, now reaching far beyond the rebels directly involved in support at Scarif. The Council could not quite commend their actions, given that they had disobeyed orders, but nevertheless recognition of some sort was due.

“Are you sure?” Jyn asks.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Cassian replies, the syllables already descending into mumbles.

They tiptoe out of his room in the med bay and make their way toward the Great Temple. After the medals ceremony, preparation for next day’s evacuation had kept the base a flurry of activity, but now the main passageways are quiet and wreathed in evening shadow.

The banquet hall in the temple complex is not a large one, so the rebels are crowded together, rubbing elbows.

Jyn immediately gets pulled into a conversation. Then Baze and Chirrut peel away toward the remaining food platters, leaving Bodhi alone in the center of the room. He flounders, closes his eyes against the barrage of sights, sounds, and smells. Then one boisterous voice cuts through the din.

He turns toward the sound to see Han Solo, a glass of something red in his hand, telling a tale he’s clearly practiced sharing, with Luke and other pilots gathered nearby.

Bodhi makes his way across, stopping to fill a glass of his own as he goes. He pauses at the fringes of the circle. The story is drawing to the end, but he’s missed the beginning anyhow. His eyes wander to Luke, who’s enthralled in listening, blue eyes shining.

Chewbacca roars a correction, but Han waves him away and Luke and the others laugh.

Bodhi lets his shoulders shake and the corners of his lips turn upwards, just in case.

Then Luke’s interruption cuts right over the climax of Han’s story. “You’re the pilot, right?”

Bodhi freezes, as half a dozen pilots try to shush and motion Luke into silence.

He tries again, more softly. “You’re Bodhi Rook.”

Breathing becomes a rather complicated affair.

“They told me about you." Luke stands up to cross the distance and clap an arm around his back. His face is flushed with drink, and so very close.

Luke’s solid weight presses against him, and Bodhi wonders how his own legs can be so unsteady just a few sips in. He realizes Luke’s still looking at him expectantly, so he reaches for something to say.

“I heard about you, too," he offers, for lack of something better.

But Luke’s mouth curves into a gorgeous, lopsided smile, though he raises his glass and bows his head to hide it.

“I got lucky.”

“To luck, then,” says Bodhi, lifting his glass in return.

“To luck.”

The glasses clink. Their shared gaze holds just long enough Bodhi feels red creeping into his cheeks.

“Come on,” Luke says, finally looking away, his hand slipping back over Bodhi’s spine. “Let me introduce you to the fellas.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to brynnmclean, for encouraging me to expand my ideas for Bodhi's arc in cast some light into a proper fic.
> 
> The title comes from the song of the same name, by Good Old War.


End file.
